


The Bed's not on Fire

by Anonymous



Series: Collaborators With Benefits [1]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Banter, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Late Night Conversations, Nonbinary Character, OC/Canon, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other, Smoking, greydoc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 23:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Another aimless conversation between two people not planning on changing.





	The Bed's not on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> More oc/canon nonsense. Grey is genderqueer and uses she/it pronouns.
> 
> Suggested listening: Poision Apple by Ambarian - https://youtu.be/J5wBdYE_tTU

"You know this won't last."

She stared into the ceiling, tracing every last detail of the cracked, peeling surface. "Wasn't expecting it to."

Murdoc took a drag on his cigarette. the smoke spread through the little space around the bed, the flickering pale light of the garage lamps dancing on the surface. "Hrm. Good. keeping your expectations realistic, that's the secret to a happy life, luv."

She grinned. "Is that why you're such a sour bitch, then?"

He hissed, swatting at her.

Grey cackled.

"ugly bastard." he muttered.

She pulled a cigar from the pocket of the crumpled coat beside her, and stuffed it into her mouth. "forreal though, you're wound up so tight. relax man."

"Quit winding me up then," he said. "fuckin' git."

She rolled over and took the cigar out of her mouth, still grinning. "Aw, but you love it, don't you, _honey?"_

"Bite me." he reached out with his lighter all the same. his twisted finger hooded beneath a cracked nail rolled over the flint, until the sparks gave way to flame. She slipped the cigar back between her teeth, and leaned in until the end of it began to glow. She inhaled deeply, then let the smoke cascade from her lips.

He let out a little wheeze through his nose, but didn't comment. She could hear the complaint in her head all the same. It only seemed to make its absence all the more out of place.

she kept staring. Too many thoughts spoke at once in her brain to be of any specificity, or any use. Mostly the overriding sensation was simply an unnamed emotion, caught up between her ribs.

He glanced back at her, blowing smoke through his crooked teeth.  

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothin’.”  
  
“Nothin’ huh.” he grumbled. “Hrmph.”

She didn’t respond. Her canine dug into her lip. She laid there, head propped up in her hand, eyes fixed on him.  
  
Three puffs on the cigarette and he turned back to her. “You got something to say, mate?”  
  
“Naw.”  
  
“Well stop it then!” he said.  
  
“Stop what? I ain’t doin nothin’.”  
  
“Quit your staring!”  
  
“Oh am I?”  
  
“You are! And I don’t care for it!” he snapped. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

She rolled back over.

“Tighter than a fishing-line noose.” she muttered.  
  
He growled, rolling over to face her. “Well how would you like it then, if some arsehole was just sitting there, staring at you for no good fucking reason, eh!” he was gesturing with the cig in his hand. “Whaddya want, you unholy gargoyle? Spit it out!”

“Nothin’.”  
  
“‘Nothin’’,” he mocked. “‘Nothin’ Mudsy, nothin’, I just wanna crawl into your bed and stare at you alllll niiight loong~ like some _mad stalker_ ’-”

“I just got nothin’ to say.”  
  
“Well I ain’t havin’ more sex, I can tell ya that! I’d too be bloody sore, and I’m all dried up anyway, so if that’s what you’re after…”  
  
“You stupid fuck.” She muttered.  
  
“ _Oi_!”  
  
“You are. You’re dumber than a sack of bricks in the middle of a busy high way.”  
  
“You shut your slutty mouth!”  
  
She smirked. “You’re just as slutty.”  
  
“Hey, I do it with grace, that’s the difference!” his voice was pitching. “You’re just some cheap trollop in a halloween costume and the same bloody haircut i gave myself when i was 8. Don’t talk to me about sluttery, I’d best you at sluttery!”

She leaned in, still grinning. “Well that’s not what you were saying 10 minutes ago.”

He sputtered, the cigarette he’d put back in his mouth now falling right back out. “That was...that...that doesn’t count!”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like you were enjoying my cut-rate sluttery.”  
  
“A temporary lapse in judgement, i can promise you _that_ !”  
  
“You’ve sure had a lot of those with me, huh?”

“Oh, _piss right off_.”

He went fumbling around for his cigarette, mumbling obscenities. He looked up to find Grey’s cigar in his face.  
  
He blinked, his eyes darting from her to the cigar.

Eventually he grumbled and snatched it up. “These taste like shit, yknow.”  
  
“‘Course. Why do you think I offered you one, hrm?”

“Well it’ll do I suppose.” he took a long drag and exhaled, devolving into a coughing fit, all while trying to pretend he wasn’t.

She snorted, her gaze settling on the sheets. “What about the cig though? Seems like it could be, yknow, a fire hazard or something.”  
  
Murdoc managed to stop his choking long enough to say, “Well the bed’s not…” he wheezed. “Not on fire, yeah? So I’d say…is..hhhgck...is probably... _probably fine_ …”

She chortled. “Yeah, i guess.”

When he’d finally found his breath, he found it in him to continue glaring. “You’re doing it again!”  
  
“Hrm?”  
  
“Staring!”  
  
“Well you were just coughing up what’s left of your lungs.”  
  
“Yeah, fat lotta help you were!” he groused.  
  
“I’m sorry, was I supposed to breathe for you?”

“Sod off.”

She handed him the first bottle she found wedged between the wall and the mattress. He drank like a drowning man. When he was done, he wiped off his mouth with his forearm. “Finally, you make yourself useful.”

She grinned. “Again, that’s not the tune you were singing before.”

He grumbled. “I’m not in the _mood_ to have this conversation all _over_ again.”

“Because you know I’ll win?”

He made an exasperated noise. “Its a conversation! There are no winners!”  
  
“Spoken like a conversation loser.”  
  
“You shut your ugly face right up.”

Grey flopped down on the bed. “Only if you shut yours.” She reached out a hand. “Truce?”  
  
Murdoc stuck the cigar into the neck of the bottle and thrust it into her hand. “No more talking, how’s that?”

Grey slipped the bottle back where she found it. “Only because I’m in a merciful mood.”

She laid out and stretched like a cat. “Am I staying the night, then?”  
  
Murdoc made a noise, reaching his right arm under his pillow. “Only because I’m too tired to kick ya out.”  
  
Grey hummed. So that’s how it was. Well...that’s how it always was. And probably how it would always be.

Not that she was complaining.

She sighed, laying on her side. She moved bit closer to Murdoc.

His eyelids flew open, his gaze fixing on her. His whole body went stiff. “What’re you doing.”  
  
“Getting comfortable,” She said.

“Well get comfortable on _your side_.”

She snorted. “There's not really enough bed for that is there?" 

“Well, _make_ room then. Figure it out.” He laid on his side and curled up tight. “An shut up while you’re at it.”  
  
She exhaled through her nose. “C’mon Mudsy…”  
  
“I don’t want anymore sex, I’m _tired_ , don’t you bloody get that?”

She said nothing. She pulled back into the corner as far as she could go.  
  
“Well, good night then.” She muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. G'night luv.” Murdoc yawned. “I might need the resta that bottle later, we’ll see…”

It sure didn’t sound like it, the way his words stumbled and tripped into each other.  But she supposed they’d see.

She watched his eyes flutter closed. And kept watching for a bit longer. The smell of ash caught up in the bed lingered in her nostrils.

She laid there for a bit, alone with that odd feeling in her chest.

She closed her eyes, and crushed it.


End file.
